Tangible
by Celestial Reign
Summary: Malik's depression takes a dangerous turn. Bronzeshipping.


**Tangible**

He'd become accustomed to terror. It was almost like a second skin for him, or a familiar language. Terror came in all sorts of shapes and sizes. When was it finally going to be enough? When would the pain finally end? Probably never.

Terror was him. Malik Ishtar was terror. He felt it every waking moment of his life, and sometimes in dreams. Dreams weren't reality though, and he despaired every time he awoke from a dream that was kind enough to take him away for a moment. Why was Malik so scared of the waking world? Because of what he'd allowed to happen.

He _allowed _his darker half, Mariku, to escape into the conscious world and wreak havoc. He _allowed _Mariku to take control of his body, trap him within his own mind where he could do nothing to save himself, and he _allowed _Mariku to-

It was never enough. He couldn't escape it, no matter how hard he tried. He hated it, he hated being this weak, but what could he do? He'd won. He had won. He whisked Mariku away for good, gained control of his body, and was in the middle of getting his life back in order. Things were supposed to be falling into a normal place. He and his siblings had decided to stay in Japan for awhile, mainly because of Malik. He wanted to stay here, he didn't want to go home just yet, and so like the spoiled younger sibling he was, his older brother and sister granted him his wishes and rented out an apartment for the time being.

Malik Ishtar was in the process of becoming normal. He'd been through so much hell his whole life, and he wanted to atone, he wanted to start over, make things right, try ignoring his past and move on to the future.

But, the past was determined to catch up to him and tackle him down where he couldn't get up.

It would be raining some days. And Malik liked the rain. He would stop whatever he was doing, no matter what it was, and sit down to enjoy the rain splattering against the walls. Rain wasn't something he was accustomed to, unlike terror, so he reveled in it, absorbed every second those little droplets were falling down like it would never rain again, and he was happy during those times.

It rained the day it finally happened, the day...Malik did something terrible.

Isis gave him a list of things to go get at the grocery store and like the teenager he was, Malik moaned and groaned about it before agreeing with his older sister that he was in need of some getting out of the place. He'd been cooped up for awhile, never really having a reason to go out in the first place. It wasn't until he finally _did _go out that he regretted it.

His hood was pulled over his flaxen locks as it rained and he pulled out the crinkled paper from his pocket to see what it was Isis wanted. He hadn't looked at it before leaving and rolled his eyes when he saw that there was no list, only the words, _'Now, stay out there for awhile and go do something' _written on it, along with a little bit of money folded into it. Darn that Isis. She should know better than to trick him like this. He was the stupid one for not looking at it, though.

Sighing, he made to head back to the apartment, but figured since he was already out here getting drenched and since he _did _have a little money, he may as well do something instead of waste the day away. Clutching at the folded yen, Malik turned back around and walked down the sidewalk a good bit before taking refuge in a nearby CD store.

A couple of girls giggled and pointed at him when he entered. He didn't blame them. He was an outsider here with his bronzed skin, blonde hair, and purple eyes. He didn't belong. Despite the acceptance, it still made him a little sad. Why couldn't the world just see each other as equals? A CD caught his eye and he ignored the giggling girls, moving over toward it and picking up the multicolored case with some girl on the front in skimpy clothing. He didn't really pick it up because of the skimpy girl, and he had to wonder if that meant something was wrong with him. He wasn't gay (not that he knew of), but the girl wasn't doing wonders for him, even though her breasts were nearly hanging out of her outfit, he saw nothing and placed the case back on the shelf.

Nothing really worked for him anymore. Malik had been depressed lately, and he didn't know why. No, that was a lie. He knew why, he just tried to shut it out, keep it away from Isis and Rishid, and keep it to himself. They didn't need to know about his problems. They were his to deal with alone. He could handle it.

But...he couldn't lie to himself. This was killing him, having to keep all of this bottled up inside like this. He was going to explode and he cursed himself for thinking about all of this while he was out in public. At least while he was in his room, he could cry by himself. Nonetheless, the tears were piling up and panicking, Malik's hand flew up to cover his mouth so as not to bring attention to himself when he started gasping to keep the tears back, and he quickly strode down the aisle of CDs to head toward the bathroom.

The locking of that door once inside was music to his ears and Malik brought the sleeve of his raincoat up and cried into it. Dammit. Dammit, dammit. Why did he have to be weak like this? Why was it that he couldn't handle this problem himself? Why did he always need rescuing? He was a _boy_. _Boys _were supposed to be tough, not cry like this. He couldn't help it. The tears flew, and his terror grew, because he was alone. He knew it was foolish to purposely get himself alone like this, but he couldn't cry out in front of those girls outside. They'd think he was strange. Just like the rest of the world.

_"Malik."_

No...no, no, no. He hated that voice. God, why did it have to come back like this? This wasn't the first time. This was only a continuation of what had already happened when he had been alone. While Isis and Rishid were away, Malik was tortured. While Malik slept alone in his room at night, something would come in and make it where he was no longer as alone as he wished. And then it would make him feel terror.

"Please." Begging. How horrible of him. He was so stupid, begging like this, but it was the only way. He had been taught his lessons, and he knew what to say to cushion the blow of punishment. "I'm sorry. Mariku, please."

_"Shh, it's okay, Malik. I understand."_

He could almost feel hands sliding over his coat, gripping at it a little, as if to wish it gone, and that terrified Malik more than his tormenter's rage. He couldn't...no, he wouldn't do this in public...would he?

He hated being alone. He just wanted somebody there for him, and then _somebody _did come, but it was cruel irony. The person to cure his depression had only made it worse, they had only made it take a dangerous turn, and Malik couldn't take it anymore.

Mariku was scary. Malik was terrified of him, even after Battle City came and went, Mariku never really left. He'd always been there, hiding in the back of Malik's mind, just out of reach where Malik couldn't see him or hear him, and he waited until those moments when Malik was by himself to pounce on him. The first time had been in the middle of the night while Malik slept. Mariku came out in the flesh where he could touch Malik all he wanted, and when Malik tried to fight him off, Mariku responded in a dangerous way.

His long fingers were wrapped so tightly around the younger one's neck, Malik was surprised his windpipe hadn't been crushed already. Mariku smiled as he choked him, straddling his stomach, demanding that Malik give him what he wanted, or else he would do away with him. Malik didn't want to die, he was terrified of death, and so he listened, and allowed Mariku whatever he wanted.

He gave up, because he was scared, and he felt like the lowliest piece of filth on the planet for it. How could he do something like that? He should've been a man and let Mariku kill him. It would've been better than...letting him do _that_. He was a boy,_ he was a boy, and boys didn't do that. _

The nights became more intense. Mariku treated him gently at first, going slow, making things somewhat pleasurable, and Malik took it all without a fight. He accepted it, even though it was eating him up inside. He hated Mariku with a passion, and he was raped every night for no reason, but he took it, sucked it up, and pretended that nothing was wrong in front of Isis and Rishid. They didn't need to know his problems. They'd already been through enough with him, he'd already treated them horribly, and this would just make things worse. Because Mariku had been gentle with him at first, it was easier for Malik to cope. Mariku was even somewhat loving with him, but that quickly changed. He became more violent, desperate for Malik to engage in his activities with him, give him the same amount of love back, and when Malik refused, Mariku would hit him. Not just hitting, but punching, kicking, biting, even stabbing into him with a knife until Malik called mercy and quaked.

Malik knew terror, because Mariku initiated it. Mariku tortured him and gave him something to be scared about everyday.

No...Mariku never told Malik the reasons why he raped him. He never claimed it was because he hated or loved him, coveted or despised him. There was only torture for Malik, and Mariku wanted...something from him.

Thank God it was cold outside. Malik could wear long sleeves to cover up all the bruises and cuts, wounds and 'love' marks that Mariku had created all over his body. There would be so much scarring...

And Malik was tired of it. He was sick of being scared, of trying to act like a man and take this, hold all of this in and pretend nothing was wrong. There was only one escape, and it was here in the bathroom. It was fate. Destiny, he knew.

As Mariku stroked and petted him from behind, giving him these gentle touches that were so horrible and misleading, Malik continued to apologize for nothing. He did nothing wrong, but it came out anyway. "Mariku, please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for whatever I did. I don't know how to make things right again. I don't know what to give you. I'm sorry." The tears were blinding.

He felt Mariku place his head on the back of his neck, he could feel his breath coming out and warming up the bare skin there. "Malik, I told you what I wanted that first night. I want you."

More tears, more sniffles and sobs. More weakness. "I'm tired, Mariku. I can't do this every night. I'm sick of it."

"You have no choice." The hands came up to pet his hair, move it behind his ear, stroke the side of his cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

The only escape was what he'd found in the bathroom. It was fate, destiny, _because it was right there and he was there and Mariku was there and... _The mirror above the sink was broken. Whether something had crashed into it or somebody punched it, Malik didn't know, nor care. The only thing he cared about was the broken pieces of glass scattered about the sink. Sharp and right there...just in arm's reach.

He grabbed the biggest piece he could find when Mariku attempted to remove his coat from behind. He didn't want this. He was sick of Mariku, sick of the rape, the screams, the wailing and constant crying, the knife...

He watched himself in the broken mirror as he dragged the sharp edge across his exposed neck. He was broken in that mirror, no longer visible because of all the cracks and pieces that had fallen off. He was broken as his neck was sliced open and blood pooled down it. He wanted escape, and got it.

Malik fell to the floor, writhing in pain, choking, not even knowing why he was trying to breathe when he chose to do this. It was just instinct. Blood, so much blood, and his neck...open, wounded, broken like the rest of his body.

And then Mariku was standing above him, staring down at him almost in disappointment, before he moved down and gave Malik a kiss to his lips. "You no longer wish to live?" Almost sad eyes gazed at him.

Malik couldn't talk. Malik was choking. Malik was blacking out.

"Then, I'll live for you. I am you anyway. I am Malik." Mariku smiled. "Thank you for giving me this gift."

The piece of mirror was still tucked into Malik's fingers long after he died. His fingers ran cold over it, never dropping it, and Malik was framed by his own blood in that bathroom.

Mariku smiled down at him, at his tear-stained face that was crying even in death. "Thank you," he whispered, even though Malik could no longer hear. "I'll live a better life than you ever could."

**End**


End file.
